


A Little While

by Fictionista654



Category: Dollhouse, Merlin (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 21:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionista654/pseuds/Fictionista654
Summary: After a millennium and a half alone, Merlin has his first conversation with Arthur.





	A Little While

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kinkalot bonus challenge #2: crossover

“Merlin, you idiot,” said Arthur. “What the hell have you done?”

“Oh, my gods,” said Merlin, his face very pale. “It worked.”

“Um, what,” Arthur asked, sitting up in the treatment chair and glancing around the computer-packed lab. “Did you hit your head or something?”

“No, I—no.” Merlin laughed shakily. His ears were ringing. “You can stand, if you like.”

“I’m the king,” said Arthur, crossing his arms. “I don’t need your permission to stand. In fact, I rather like it here. Fetch me my breakfast.” 

“Arthur,” said Merlin, “look around. We’re not in your chambers.”

“I didn’t realize my jurisdiction began and ended in my rooms,” Arthur said icily.

“And it doesn’t worry you that we aren’t there,” said Merlin. It wasn’t a question. He pulled his laptop back towards him and scrolled through the source code. Fuck. He’d left the anti-anxiety failsafe running. It was too late to do anything about it now. Maybe it was better this way.

“Where are we, then?” said Arthur, taking in the bulky servers and flashing lights. “Some sort of magic cave?”

“We’re at my job,” said Merlin, trying to smile. 

Arthur made a face. “I didn’t tell you you could quit.”

“I didn’t,” said Merlin. “You died, remember?” 

“I don’t know,” said Arthur, frowning a bit. “I couldn’t say. How long has it been, then? One year? Five?”

Merlin winced. “A bit longer than that, actually. I lost track around the thirteenth century.”

“You lived until the _thirteenth century_?” said Arthur, looking impressed. “What’s the future like? Who’s the king of Camelot?”

“Well, no one,” said Merlin. “There is no Camelot anymore.”

Arthur gawped, though he didn’t panic, and Merlin supposed he should thank the failsafe even if it dulled Arthur’s personality.

“Where are we then? Don’t tell me Essetir.”

“Good news,” said Merlin. “Essetir fell!” Arthur did look cheered at this. 

“We’re in Albion, though,” he said confidently. 

“Er, no,” Merlin said apologetically. “We’re in America. The United States, to be exact.”

“I don’t like it,” said Arthur. “Take me back.”

“Maybe later,” said Merlin. “I just want to talk with you now.” He sat on his rolling desk chair and kicked his heels against the floor until he was right next to the treatment chair.

“Are you going to stare at me all day?” said Arthur. “I’ve not grown a second head, have I?”

“No second head,” Merlin assured him. “It’s just been a long time for me, that’s all. I haven’t spoken to you in fifteen-hundred years.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me we’re in the, um…”

“Need help with the counting, sire?” Merlin said sweetly. 

“Twenty-first,” Arthur said, shooting Merlin a glare. “We’re in the twenty-first century. That’s insane. You’re insane. I don’t know what else I’d expect from a sorcerer.”

“My powers aren’t frightening you, are they?” said Merlin. “I mean, you still want to be my friend.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Merlin, sometimes I think you’re the stupidest man in Albi—in the world. I forgave you, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Merlin said quietly. “I just wasn’t sure.” And then, though he hadn’t planned to say it, didn’t want to put too much on this meeting: “I miss you so much.”

A warm hand slipped into his own. 

“I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you,” said Arthur. “But I’m here now, and I’ll never let you go.” He tilted Merlin’s face towards his own and leaned in, lips parted.

The kiss was long, and soft, and sweeter than Merlin deserved. An errant tear slipped over his cheekbone, and Arthur wiped it away with the side of his thumb.

“Don’t cry,” said Arthur. “It doesn’t suit you.” But there was so much affection in his voice that Merlin could have sobbed.

Then, of course, the lab door banged open. Arthur and Merlin jerked apart. “Times up!” Topher announced, practically skipping down the steps to meet them. He slapped Merlin on the back. “Thanks for leaving him in the chair, bud. You wouldn’t _believe_ the mess some of the other handlers make.”

“Yeah,” Merlin said heavily. Arthur glowered with all the righteous indignation of a fifth-century English king.

“Leave,” he told Topher.

Topher’s brows shot up. “Hey, is that Old English?”

“Lie back,” said Merlin, his voice dull. Arthur did, continuing to argue even as the chair flattened into a bed. 

“He can’t just barge in here, Merlin! Does he know who I am? Do you have any idea who I am?” 

“Hands on these,” said Merlin, and Arthur obediently put his hands on the flat armrests on either side of him. Topher pulled the machinery around Arthur’s head.

“Any last words?”

“Last words?” said Arthur, but Topher flipped the switch before Merlin could respond.

***

“Did I fall asleep?”

“For a little while,” said Merlin. 

“Shall I go now?”

Merlin looked away from the Active to the hunk of metal and plastic in his hands. “If you like,” he said, his heart heavy as stone. 


End file.
